Unsteady Hands
by Flameshield
Summary: A Medic's reflecting of a lost comrade


Unsteady Hands

He couldn't do anything to save him, and now he was gone. This situation was different from others, he was normally used to losing patients when trying to save them, but with so few of their kind left, it was getting harder and harder to accept losses.

It made Rachet wonder, however, which loss was hurting his commander more, Jazz's or Megatron's.

Jazz was a good mech, he could learn of a society faster then the others, allowing him to blend in some more. So when he challenged Megatron himself, the smallest Autobot against a very large Decepticon, changes of winning were slim. When he and Ironhide found the two halves of Jazz, it was already too late.

Now Rachet was posing as an ambulance, helping the humans carry their sick and injured from point A to point B, which was the hospital. None of his new allies knew they were driving a robot, but he didn't plan on telling them anytime soon, either. He was too busy thinking to notice anything.

Why it was bothering him so much, he didn't know. There are times where he leaves the station and heads to where Jazz's body, and tries to work on it, even though his comrade was long gone. However, every time his hands would shake, as would his whole body, it was odd for him.

Jazz, he considered Jazz a close friend, he would always try to lighten up the day after a hard day of patching together others. Perhaps that was what he would miss. That and Jazz would always protect him while on the field helping the injured.

"Yeah, I'm taking an ambulance out, call if you need someone to respond someplace." Rachet heard one of the paramedics call as he entered. There was another distant voice, one Rachet couldn't make out. "The new one? Sure, I'll take it." The man said, then walked over to where Rachet sat. "though I don't see why I should take this one…" the man muttered, opening the driver's door and starting it up.

When he wasn't thinking about Jazz, he searched the World Wide Web to learn about the medical field on this planet. He found it interesting that it was very similar to his people's ways, except for transplants, on Cybertron they just made new parts, humans would become organ donors, and when they die their organs would be used for others, and sometimes they took hearts from pigs. It fascinated him, but this would only last for so long.

"One of our top surgeons is upset." The human mutter, Rachet figured he was thinking he was talking to himself. "He never loses anyone, yet today he lost a rather young adult today, perhaps 20 years old, kid was hit hard by a trash truck, I think the call was." The man sighed, "I don't think he had a chance to begin with, he was already on his way out when we picked him up, I feel sorry for him."

"I was on that call." Rachet spoke softly, then mentally hitting himself.

"What the…?" the man said, staring at the steering wheel.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to speak." Rachet replied.

"You just startled me, I read the paper so I know you guys are here, somewhere." The man said.

"You humans are an odd bunch, frighten but not completely out of it screaming like some."

"Trust me, one of the others would scream their head off if they found out one of the robots from that huge battle was one of our ambulances." The man said with a laugh.

"So how does it make you feel when you lost someone you could've saved?" Rachet asked.

"It's depressing, considering we have a relatively short life span, it's not easy trying to save those who've been shot, loss of blood will eventually expire our life." The man said with a sigh, "What about you?"

"I happen to be a medic myself, however, in your terms we are, more or less, immortal, however I lost a comrade in that battle, I couldn't save him." Rachet said, his voice saddens.

"That's sucks." The man said, "considering how few of you there are."

"Yes, and he was always there, protecting me while I tended to the injured."

"Field Medic in the midst of battle." The man said, "That must be hard."

"Only if you are unprotected, but I do know how to use weapons, which helps."

"Yeah, might you have some advice I could share with the surgeon?" the man asks.

"Not everyone can be saved, you're bound to lose some."

"Now do yourself a favor." The man said, "Follow the same advice, I know you've lost some, being a medic and all, but still."

"Yes…thank you for listening."

"And thank you for butting in." the man said, "I want to see if I can be assigned to be your driver or not."

"Don't want to freak anyone out, do you?"

"No, more like I don't want anyone to realize that the truck is alive."

"Someone is bound to find out."

"Until then, we keep quiet about this."

"Fine by me." Rachet said.

The CMO smiled in his mind. Talking with the paramedic about his troubling lose had helped a little bit, but the habit of working on the prone body didn't die, for whatever reason, he kept working on it, but he also continued to serve the humans in transporting the frail from point a to point b.

* * *

Someone said in a review in my Aftermath story that i should do something with the others, except instead of Megatron to reflect their mourning process with Jazz. This one is Rachet, and i'll do Bee and Ironhide later. 

Please leave a review  
Flameshield


End file.
